Den of Thieves (4 page)

‘I . . . er . . . I'm leavin' London for a bit.'

‘No!' I was astounded. Neither Syd nor I ever left town. Our bones were made from the dust of its streets and our blood from the water of the Thames. I couldn't have been more surprised if he'd announced he was going to the moon.

Syd was pleased to see that I was shocked by his announcement. ‘Just for a bit like, Kitten. Just for the summer. I'm goin' on tour with me manager. We're goin' to take on all-comers at the fairs up and down the country. 'E says there's a mint of money to be made in boxin'. 'E promises it'll set me up for me own place in the autumn if all goes
well. I'll be able to think about settlin' down.'

I made a sceptical snort. Syd's face fell. ‘What? You don't like the idea of settlin' down? Me startin' a boxin' academy?'

‘No, Syd, not that. It's just that I don't like your manager. I don't trust him as far as I could throw him – which, as it's my muscles we're talking about, isn't very far at all.'

Syd turned away and ran his hands through his hair in exasperation. ‘Don't start that again, Cat. What you got against Mick Bailey but his bad taste in jackets, eh? I know 'e looks a sharp one, but 'as 'e ever let me down, I ask you?'

‘He hasn't had the chance. You've been on a winning streak.'

‘It's more than a streak, Cat,' said Syd, bobbing on his toes and making a jab at his shadow. ‘I'm good, bleedin' marvellous, 'e tells me.'

‘For once, I agree with him. Just be careful.'

‘Course I will, you daft Kitten,' he said, making a playful punch in the direction of my ribs. ‘I'm a big lad. I can look after meself, you know.'

‘I know.'

We'd been friends for so many years, but I couldn't see the grown-up Syd without remembering the boy who'd taken me under his wing when I was an infant. My earliest memories consisted of me trailing after him, pulling the little wooden horse he'd made me, or sitting unnoticed at his side when he played marbles with the boys. Later, I climbed the apple trees with him when we went scrumping in the Reverend James's orchard and fled on his heels when we were spotted. Even then, he'd taken the punishment for me, saying it was his fault for leading me astray. I knew that he'd always been able to take care of himself and the others under his protection. It was only recently that I had come to appreciate that he was also sharper than he looked: a gentle, slow manner disguised an astute grasp of street politics. I was going to miss him.

‘So, when are you leaving?'

‘Monday. I'm puttin' Nick in charge of the boys. I won't let Billy Shepherd get on to my patch while I'm out of the way, don't you worry.' He stopped bouncing about and gave me a stern look.
‘You not 'eard from 'im again, 'ave you, Cat?'

I shook my head, shivering as if the day had suddenly turned cold. Billy ‘Boil' Shepherd, gang leader of the Rookeries mob, had both tried to kill me and saved my life in the last eighteen months. I wasn't eager to find out what else he had in store for me on our next encounter. But still hanging over me was the little matter of my promise to Billy, made when trying to stop Pedro being kidnapped by his old slave master. I hadn't heard anything more about this since that cold winter night on the Thames when I had given my word that I'd repay the debt I owed Billy. I had started to hope that he'd forgotten.

‘No, I think he must've lost interest in me.'

‘Good.' Syd gave me a hand up from my seat. ‘Glad to 'ear it, Cat. 'E's not stopped 'is nasty 'abit of dumpin' his enemies in the river with rocks tied to their ankles. Very best thing a girl like you can do with a lad like that is keep well out of 'is way.' The clock of a nearby church struck the hour. ‘You'd better be off. I've made you late, 'aven't I?'

‘Don't worry about that. I'm pleased you let me
know your plans yourself.' I waved farewell as I walked briskly off towards the market.

I hardly noticed the streets separating Covent Garden from St James as I pondered the news. Syd leaving home? That didn't feel right – how would he manage away from his friends? And – a selfish thought slid into my mind – why did he have to go now? Just when I needed him more than ever.

A cool breeze found its way across Hyde Park to Grosvenor Square, fluttering the gold tassels of the canopy stretched over our heads. Lady Elizabeth and I were reclining in chairs, raspberry sherbets in hand, enjoying the shade of the oriental booth erected in the garden in the middle of the square. Her chestnut hair was plaited in a fashionable Grecian style, caught high off her neck, and she was dressed in a beautiful lightweight pale blue gown. Tiny navy slippers decorated with seed pearls peeped out from under the hem. If I'd met Hercules outside the Butcher's shop earlier, it wasn't hard to imagine that I was now lying beside Helen of Troy. Out in the noonday sunshine, Lord
Francis and Pedro were playing a very competitive game of Pall Mall. Lulled by the regular ‘clockclock' of mallet striking balls, I had begun to doze off when a row erupted.

‘That ball went through!' protested Lord Francis.

‘Didn't,' challenged Pedro. My African friend tilted his head defiantly up at his lordship. Frank had sprouted several inches during the spring and, unless you knew him well, struck an imposing figure with his shock of curly dark hair.

‘Did!'

‘Did not . . . my lord,' said Pedro archly, bowing low.

‘Did, you . . . you musical dandy!'

Pedro grinned, brushing off his impeccable yellow and blue livery. ‘Did not, you sartorial disgrace to the name of Avon.' Frank's shirt was hanging out and his cravat untied. He never liked conforming to the high standards expected of the heir to a dukedom.

‘Lizzie, Cat, tell Pedro that it went through!' Frank appealed to us.

‘I'm not getting involved,' said Lizzie wisely,
waving her fan at her brother. ‘Both of you need your heads examining, if you ask me, for standing out there in that heat for so long.'

‘Cat! You tell him.'

I laughed. ‘You are an outrageous cheat, Frank. It missed by inches. Just because you were blocking the hoop from Pedro's view, doesn't mean we don't know what you were up to.'

Frank threw his mallet on to the ground in a huff. ‘I tell you, it went through as sweet as a nut. If you were a boy again, Cat, I'd beat you for calling me a cheat.'

‘Frank!' exclaimed Lizzie. ‘When are you going to start treating Cat properly?' Frank shrugged and helped himself to a glass of sherbet. ‘I'm serious,' Lizzie continued. ‘You've set the tone with the servants, you know – they all treat her like an honorary boy in the house, taking all sorts of liberties with her.'

Frank gave me a quick look then turned away to watch Pedro who was collecting up the balls with his mallet. ‘What sort of liberties?' he asked stiffly.

‘Lizzie, it's nothing –,' I tried to interrupt. I knew what she was going to say and blushed to be reminded of my latest indiscretion. There was something about being in the splendid surroundings of the Duke of Avon's residence that made me incapable of behaving as I knew I should.

‘No, he should hear what he's done,' said Lizzie firmly. ‘Only last week, Joseph jumped out on her in the library and pushed her along on one of the ladders so she fell off and broke Father's bust of Voltaire.'

Frank laughed. ‘Oh, that's all right then. I thought you meant something far more scandalous.'

‘Well, to some people that would be, Frank. And do you know what Joseph told me when I challenged him about it?'

Frank shrugged.

‘He said, in his best Joseph manner, that he “couldn't resist it, my lady” and that he “knew Miss Catherine liked it”. In his defence, I should say he offered to pay for the breakage out of his wages. I refused, of course – the bust was an ugly thing that none of us really liked. Now don't tell
me that you haven't encouraged your footman to behave like that?'

‘Lizzie, I –' I began.

‘No, Cat, this is between me and Frank. It's not that I want to spoil your fun but you're both growing up fast. My brother needs to treat you with respect or, well, you might find it very difficult in the future.'

I didn't want to listen to her. So many things were changing; I couldn't keep pace. Behaviour that I had got away with just six months ago was now thought immodest for a young lady of my age. Everyone seemed to expect me to grow up, make my own way.

‘I'm sorry, Lizzie, I'll try to behave better when I'm at your house,' I said, unsuccessfully trying to hide my frustration.

‘Oh Cat, I'm not scolding you,' said Lizzie with a smile. ‘We all like you as you are. I'm just trying to drum some manners into my incorrigible brother.'

‘I stand corriged,' said Frank with a bow. ‘Miss Royal, if you would be so kind as to move your delicate toes from the end of the seat so that my
sitting apparatus can place itself in the shade, I would be most obliged.'

Even I had to laugh at that. Lizzie poured two more glasses of sherbet and the four of us sat at our ease, sipping them appreciatively.

‘So, you're both leaving Drury Lane and Syd's off on tour, is he?' asked Frank. ‘I wish I could go with him.'

‘We all seem to be on the move,' said Lizzie.

‘Oh? Are you going to the country soon?' I enquired. The Avons usually spent the summer on their estate near Bath.

‘No, it's better than that,' Lizzie replied, her blue eyes shining with a light I hadn't seen since a certain gentleman of her acquaintance had left England. ‘Our cousin, the Comtesse de Plessis, has invited us to Paris. She thought that Father, as a friend of the revolution, might enjoy the 14th July celebrations.'

‘What do they get up to?'

‘Since the people of Paris stormed the Bastille prison on that day two years ago, they have begun to hold an annual holiday. They have music and
processions – it all sounds wonderful.'

‘Lizzie wouldn't think it was so wonderful if a certain foreign dignitary wasn't going to be there,' added Frank in an undertone. ‘I fear Cousin Rebecca is playing cupid.'

‘Oh?' asked Pedro.

‘Don't tell me, Johnny's going to be in Paris!' I exclaimed.

Lizzie nodded shyly, her face wreathed in smiles. ‘He's been sent by an American newspaper to record the proceedings.'

‘Lizzie and Lord Johnny have been plotting this between them for some time,' Frank continued.

‘Not exactly plotting, Frank,' corrected Lizzie. ‘Just taking advantage of a happy coincidence.'

As pleased as I was to hear that the two young lovers were to be reunited, I couldn't help but feel disappointed that my friend Johnny was going to be so near and yet I wouldn't have a chance to see him. Johnny still had the little matter of an arrest warrant hanging over his head for treasonous cartoons – he would be unable to return to England for many years.

‘Are you going too, Frank?' I asked enviously.

‘Lord no, Cat. I'd be quite the wallflower. Mama and Lizzie will be shopping all day, Father talking to the political chaps. In the evening, Lizzie will be billing and cooing with Johnny and my honoured parents going to dinner parties – I'd be in everyone's way. No, I've been exiled to the family pile.' He gave me a sour smile.

‘What nonsense, Frank! You know that's not why you've got to go to Boxton. You need to prepare for your college examination,' said Lizzie, prodding her brother with her fan. ‘Father doesn't want you to get by on your rank but on your merit.'

‘And unfortunately, according to my tutors at Westminster School, my merit is not sufficient,' Frank added sorrowfully. ‘I wish I had your feel for Latin, Cat: it would make my life much easier and the summer much shorter.'

‘And I wish we could swap places,' I replied, thinking that I wouldn't mind spending the summer on a country estate improving my language skills – it would certainly be better than the uncertain future I was facing in London.

‘Unfortunately, I think my tutor might notice this time.' Frank nodded at my hair which now reached my shoulders after being cut short six months ago so I could masquerade as a Westminster schoolboy. ‘What about you, Pedro? What are you going to do when the theatre closes?'

Pedro stretched out on his back on the grass, hands behind his head. ‘I'll be with the maestro. He did say something about going to Paris and then on to Italy.' He'd evidently been saving up that little gem of information, just waiting for us to ask for it. That's Pedro's way: to appear quite collected about the most exciting things. I guessed he was really enthusiastic underneath his cool demeanour.

‘What! You lucky thing!' Frank exploded. ‘So I'm the only one stuck in old England, am I?'

‘Apart from me,' I said quietly.

‘Of course, you. That's a given. You leaving Covent Garden is as about as unthinkable as the ravens leaving the Tower of London.' Frank turned back to Pedro. ‘Will you see the Colosseum? Venice?'

I refilled my glass, not entirely pleased with this speech. Why did Frank think it inconceivable that I would leave London? Why did my privileged friends think I couldn't move beyond the world I knew? Did they consider me so limited that I wouldn't be able to cope? Another voice whispered, perhaps they were right? Perhaps I couldn't survive outside the Sparrow's Nest? My hand shook and I splashed raspberry sherbet on my white gown.

‘Oh, b*****!' I swore.

‘Cat!' exclaimed Lizzie as Frank and Pedro howled with laughter at my obscenity.

‘What was that about behaving at our house?' crowed Frank. ‘Treating her like a lady?'

I got up. ‘Sorry, Lizzie. I'd better go.'

‘No, no, I'll summon someone to bring a cloth to wipe off your skirt. Raspberry leaves terrible stains.' She reached for a bell.